Life can, apparently, be divided into 3 (three) 20-year chunks. Rumination on the reality of this creates an unusual sense of anxiety, not unlike the urge to defecate against one's will. At age 31, overweight, overworked and with the blood pressure and cholesterol numbers of a man twice my age, I understand that I am past the halfway mark for the second chunk. The second, all-important chunk. The one where you plant the seeds of fortune, family and start building your legacy (to be completed and enjoyed in the third chunk of life, of course). This, my friends, is a good time to review what we have done so far, what we are in the process of doing, and what we plan on doing. We can no longer use the qualifier "when I grow up..." when talking about our dreams. We're grown up. Soon, we won't be able to say "when I am older..." either. Death advances to meet you at a steady rate - one day at a time. Let us now take stock of the situation and act! Lose that weight! Marry that girl (or guy)! Quit smoking! Have kids! Make the investment! I have done some of these things, and yet have so much more to do. David Gilmour's words in Pink Floyd's immortal "Time" echo this sentiment...
And there is time to kill today...
And then one day you find, ten years have got behind you
No one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun
And so, with re-renewed vigor, I trudge on. I know what must be done. I bought the bike, I made the resolutions. I set aside the money. I've planned the ways I would tie my loose ends from 5, 10, even 20 years ago (forgive me, Jeremy Lapus). I reach for another potato chip, as I make another credit card purchase, and waste 4 hours surfing the internet looking for another way to overclock my computer... all while laughing at a tripping midget. I realize that the tripping midget - is me.
